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pilot Catteni vessel.”
    â€œYou will?” Bert’s eyes were nearly popping out of his sockets but Raisha assumed an aura of complete calm confidence and gave a little sigh.
    Zainal had certainly made two people very happy. “Study hard now. Kris and I prepare our team.”

CHAPTER 3

    F or a plan that had been so hastily put together, it could not have gone more smoothly. Kris was shaking badly when the comunit buzzed but Zainal had rehearsed her in two more phrases.
    â€œArvonk,” she said, hand on her windpipe, and added in harsh Catteni, “See you. Glide in. Chouma.” Which she added on her own.
    They could just make out the ship in the gleam of the rising moon as it settled silently in the corner of the field. A brief glint of muted light was cut off as the hatch closed.
    Zainal was pretending to be one of his own captors, Kris the other, while Leon, being tall, was plainly leaning against Zainal as if unconscious. Joe Marley, face blackened, hunched over the controls of Mitford’s usual air-cushion machine and eased it forward at a slow walking pace.
    The first surprised burst from the Catteni was the signal for Fek and Slav to rise from their crouching positions and dispatch both intruders with silent lances. Then Joe increased the power of the vehicle and they whizzeddown the field to the scout. Zainal hit the exterior release and Bert and Raisha bolted through as soon as the hatch was wide enough. It was Leon’s turn now.
    â€œStolix Zainal,” he called out, trying to sound triumphant but listening to be sure there was no sound of another person on board.
    Zainal pushed past, knife at the ready, and strode with no stealth at all toward the bridge in the prow of the small spaceship. Those listening outside heard him slide a panel.
    â€œWere only two,” he called back.
    â€œPermission to come aboard, sir?” Bert asked, not quite facetiously as he adhered to protocol.
    â€œPermission given,” Zainal said, and Kris heard the relief in his voice.
    â€œI just want a quick look,” she said, and followed Raisha and Bert down the passageway. She wondered if scout crews were chosen because they were physically small enough to maneuver in such enclosed spaces. Zainal certainly had to walk sideways.
    Raisha was already seated in one position, with Bert running his fingers lightly across this and that panel as if confirming the briefing Zainal had given them. The look on his face made Kris gulp. He was having a hard time believing that he was actually preparing to go into space again—not as an unconscious passenger this time. She envied them.
    â€œKris, one last message,” Zainal said, turning her toward the controls. “Say, ‘Arvonk icts, stolix Zainal. Escag. Klotnik.’”
    She muttered them over to herself and then Zainal pointed to the speaker grille and threw a toggle up. She almost forgot to grab her throat but the fact that she could say the words with authority lent a certain vibrant triumph to her tone. “What did I say?”
    Zainal ruffled her hair. “‘Arvonk here, have Zainal. Return. Out.’”
    â€œOut sounds too much like ‘Kotik, accept.’”
    â€œNot to Catteni listener. Now, out. The satellite must record the takeoff.” He escorted her down the cramped aisle to the hatch, one large hand on her shoulder. At the hatch, he put his cheek against hers, pressing hard before he hit the open button.
    Dazed as she was by the night’s success and the prospect of being without him for a day or two, she remembered to step carefully down onto the air-cushion platform. She lifted one hand to her cheek, feeling his against hers. Joe drove off.
    He was picking up speed when Fek abruptly shouted, “Stop!” Surprised, Joe braked so quickly his passengers had to grab at each other to remain upright and in the vehicle. Fek leaned over the side, peering down at something Kris was very